The 5 Stages of Grief
by Paceismyhero
Summary: This story follows Rachel's journey through the 5 stages of grief she experiences after Finn's sudden death. Obvious Finchel thoughts/memories and subtle hint at Puckleberry, but the point (and the point of view) is Rachel. Everything before the upcoming season 5 holds true. Rated M for language and adult situations.
1. Prelude

**Author's Note:** This might end up longer than this prelude, but I can't help but want to explain some things. First, I completely understand if this (the entire thing, not just the note) goes unread by everyone. Not really writing for the reviews, but more just because I couldn't stop the idea.

Second, to that point, I want to forewarn everyone that this idea is NOT what I want to happen in the coming season. I stopped watching Glee sometime in the middle of season 3 (outside of watching some YouTube things here and there), but I still hold a flame for all that was great about the characters (before they were ruined - more than once). Those who know me know that I mainly write Puckleberry, but I was actually a Finchel fan for the show. I loved Cory and I'll definitely miss his face. So this idea popped into my head based on conversations with friends and my husband, actually, and became more of a challenge than anything. Could I do it even though I so adamantly hoped they would find a way to save Finn when the same couldn't be done for Cory?

Third, just a disclaimer that I don't anticipate any of these to be entirely long (I haven't finished writing it, but I wanted to start and post it to sort of light the fire because I definitely wanted it to be done and completely uploaded before the new season does start). That is not meant to reflect how hard I would imagine this journey to be. Rather, I just had these specifics snippets in my mind and am hoping you as the reader will fill in the gaps of time with whatever you can imagine the rollercoaster of emotions would be at any given point during the 5 stages.

Finally, thank you. For ... anything and everything. :)

* * *

Rachel bounced through the apartment building, an extra hop in her step as she climbed the staircase to the loft she shared with Kurt and Santana. It had been a _long_ year, full of interesting twists and turns - some good, some bad - and now it was over. She was officially a sophomore in college; technically she hadn't received her grades from the last semester yet, but she could have flunked every single one of her finals and still at least passed. So, yes. She was no longer the new kid in school. More importantly, though, she was no longer _in_ school.

It was her first full summer in New York. Last year she'd been put on a train to the city, told to never look back and to follow her dreams. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly how things worked. Her fathers had met her at Grand Central Station, and from there they'd visited NYADA. They'd received a full tour, got her signed up for all her classes and then enjoyed a lovely dinner followed by a spectacular show in the theater district. After a weekend, they'd gone back to Lima and Rachel had spent the rest of her summer packing and preparing for the actual move, which hadn't happened until early August.

"Well maybe _I_ don't want to get _herpes_ on my summer break!" Kurt shouted, his voice penetrating Rachel's ear drums even before she'd completely opened the door. She almost considered slowly backing away and taking a walk around the park just to avoid whatever chaos was waiting inside the loft, but it was too late. Besides, it seemed the topic of conversation was centered on plans for vacation and Rachel very much wanted to be a part of that discussion.

"Get the stick out of your ass, Grandpa Hummel. It's just the beach."

"It's a _dirty_ beach," he argued, his head turned and eyes acknowledging Rachel but then quickly reverting back to the Latina in front of him. "And I'm not saying we stay home the _entire_ time. I just …"

"You want to go home? To Lima?" Rachel asked, a mix of panic and confusion in her voice. "When we last spoke, you seemed excited about staying in New York."

"_I am_," he all but shouted, clearly feeling suffocated between Rachel and Santana badgering him about the same thing. "Not everything is here, though."

"You mean not every_one_," Santana practically snarled before almost-whining, "It's summer break! We're 19. Let's _be_ 19."

"In the city that never sleeps!" Rachel piled on, absently wondering when she'd started agreeing with Santana. "We can visit all the classic tourist spots we haven't been able to see yet and …"

She sighed when Kurt walked away, toward a faint buzzing sound that ended up being his cell phone ringing. It was on the coffee table in the living room, but Santana had thrown her pillow-mate on top of it after she'd woken from her nap, apparently. The girls rolled their eyes at each when he answered with a heavy clip in his voice, clearly exasperated with his roommates. Rachel was just about to mock him openly about being so wishy-washy because of a guy when Kurt's face suddenly drained of all color and the phone fell to the ground. In the time it took her gaze to follow the near-fatal descent of the mobile device and back up, Kurt had sprung from his spot to sprint to the bathroom.

Rachel and Santana shared a look that neither knew they'd perfected in the brief time they'd become roommates, but nonetheless had Rachel running after Kurt while Santana retrieved his phone. Rachel had every intention of following Kurt inside the small restroom, but the sound of his retching kept her outside the thin wooden door, looking back at Santana in concern. Only then did she see the same ghostly expression cross the Latina's face, an audibly shaky inhale the only sound released before she hung up.

"What's going on? Is it his dad?" Rachel whispered, though it made absolutely no sense. Santana was not the robot they'd always pegged her as, but she wouldn't have been so obviously distraught over Burt. In fact, even when faced with what others would consider some extremely heavy emotional baggage, Santana had always managed to at least appear completely composed. She'd looked just the opposite then, though, her eyes wide and hollow when they finally lifted from the phone to look back at Rachel.

"Finn's dead."

It was such a short sentence, and yet the weight of the words hit her like a ton of bricks. And Rachel wasn't sure if they were the only words Santana had said, but they were the first and last two she'd heard before fainting.


	2. Stage 1: Denial

**Author's Note: **I was going to post this yesterday, but I figured Mondays are depressing enough. I want to say thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed the story. I'm humbled by the support and trust y'all seem to have in me tackling this subject. So, thanks.

* * *

_Stage 1: Denial_

The days following that afternoon were a blur. Rachel's fathers had arranged plane tickets for all three roommates - and a private car to pick them up at the loft. Each was staying with family for as much of the adults' comfort as their own. Lima was a small town, the kind where everyone knew everyone. By the time Rachel, Kurt and Santana had arrived back in town, everyone knew all the details of Finn's sudden and tragic death - everyone except them, that is, as they'd avoided the details through their traveling. It was the kind of thing that would stir emotions in even the most stone-hearted, but for it to happen in a relatively tight-knit community made it seem worse.

The funeral was the worst kind of reunion, and certainly not the way any of them wanted to begin their summer vacations. They'd all tried to catch up on each other's lives - despite attempts to stay in touch, no one really did; not with everyone, at least - but people were either too worked up to talk about it or they'd find a glimpse of happiness in a story and then feel terrible. Everyone had their own way of dealing with grief. Rachel knew the stages, and it wasn't too hard to see (nor was it hard to understand) that everyone was firmly planted in the denial stage. They'd all gathered in the choir room as some sort of tribute to the friend they'd lost, everyone sharing memories and then pausing after each one as if they'd all expected Finn to just walk right into the room - falling over himself even before a dance number or just taking his spot at the drumset.

The memories were welcome, giving them all a chance to smile in what was probably the first time in days, but they were also too much at the same time. Once she woke from her fainting spell, Rachel had remained relatively strong. She wasn't made of stone, but she'd tried to push aside her own needs (read: feelings) and tend to Kurt or help Mr. Schuester arrange the choir-room memorial or be the shoulder for someone else (Quinn was absolutely heartbroken). Deep down she'd considered whether she was doing it just to spite everyone else, who all expected her to have some quintessential breakdown. She didn't want his death to be about her reaction to it, though, and she could feel her resolve start to break when Sam started telling everyone the story about last year's Christmas.

As soon as she exited the building, she drew in a long, heavy breath. The summer air in Ohio was light, much more so than the thick humidity that was starting to overtake New York. It felt nice, and her feet moved her deeper outside until she was crossing the football field. Her eyes landed on Noah when she looked up to choose a spot on the bleachers; she'd noticed him at the funeral, and he looked much the same as he did then. Completely together and yet crushed at the exact same time. For whatever reason, she'd drawn strength from his non-reaction then, maybe just because she'd admired how well he was able to pull off the same look she was going for.

"How are you, Noah?" She asked softly, her voice hoarse. "Really?"

He scoffed, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. "Really? I'dda thought you of all people would know better than to ask that shitty question."

She frowned, but her head bobbed in understanding. She must have heard it a least a hundred times today, half of those coming from her fathers. But she tried not to let it bother her; it was hard to know what to say to someone during times like these. Still, she despised the question, if only because the answer was always a lie. She couldn't very well tell people that she felt numb. They wouldn't understand. They expected tears. They expected dramatics. But she was feeling a million and one different emotions and, somehow, they all seemed to cancel each other out until she was left with a subdued humming. It kept her awake, but unfocused. She wasn't happy, but she couldn't cry.

She felt hollow.

"I was just with him," he said suddenly, the bewilderment in his tone only masked by the obvious pain he was feeling. "I just talked to him."

Rachel listened, trying not to let her mind wander too much. She couldn't help but think back to her and Finn's own last conversation, though. It had sadly been a while ago, closer to when he'd first started college in the spring. They hadn't said anything particularly important, but everything seemed more significant now. Or maybe it was what they hadn't said that seemed vital now. Like, she should have told him she'd loved him, even if it was meant in a purely platonic way - and Rachel still wasn't sure it was, but she couldn't allow herself to have those thoughts now. She should have told him to be careful. She should have … done something.

"He was cool. Said he was cool." Noah shook his head. "I had to leave campus or whatever, but we still hung out. Talked n' shit."

Rachel nodded like she completely understood, though she only had a cursory idea of what he must be thinking. After all, she knew about how Noah had been staying in the dorms with Finn at the very beginning. And she'd be amused to hear that Noah had been the one to try to get Finn back on track. But after that, Rachel was as much in the dark as Noah clearly had been left in. No one had any idea Finn hadn't lived up to his end of the deal. No one knew that the end-of-the-year party would be his last.

"I just thought he was busy. Exams and shit. Plus he was still workin' and whatever."

Noah sighed heavily, and she couldn't help the way her hand reached out and touched his shoulder. It was a pitiful attempt to console him, but even through the fog of her own sadness she knew he wouldn't accept anything more. If it weren't for the fact that they were all alone in the middle of an empty stadium and she hadn't known him since even before either of them knew Finn, she was sure Noah wouldn't have said more than the biting response to her cliche question before making up some excuse to leave. He stayed, though, not moving from her light touch but still keeping his distance by not returning the gesture.

"He just … he can't be dead."

"I know," she agreed faintly, wishing it were true. But even though she could recognize the denial and knew it was the natural first step, she also knew it was the shortest. Because no matter how hard they all tried to believe it was all a dream, they had to accept it. "But he is."


	3. Stage 2: Anger

**Author's Note: **This one seems harsh, but it is very true to the stage (in my experience). So, don't hate too much and remember Rachel is healing. *shies away* Thank you everyone for the insane encouragement and support. As always, y'all rock!

* * *

_Stage 2: Anger_

Rachel rolled her eyes, tugging on the final zipper on her suitcase before lifting it off her childhood bed and practically slamming it to the ground. She tugged the lever up so she could drag it out of her room, leaving her father to follow her while she all but stomped down the stairs. Her dad was waiting at the bottom.

"I don't care if either of your understand or not!" She yelled, her head moving back and forth so they'd know she was speaking to both of them. "I need to get back to New York. I have a life there."

"Hon …"

"I know you want me to be a blubbering mess so you can take care of your precious baby girl and I'll just never grow up, but just because Finn died doesn't mean my life is over!"

"Rachel, dear, you know we just want what is best for you."

"And we thought," Hiram added quickly, the two men standing close together, "perhaps you'd changed your mind about returning to the city so soon now that Kurt had decided to stay in Lima."

Rachel's anger - she'd been in the second stage for the last week; even knowing the stages hadn't helped her move through them any quicker or avoid the particularly unpleasant ones. They were just like boxed off areas that would eventually be checked off, for an undetermined amount of time - faded for just a moment as she thought about Kurt. They'd spoken a few days ago, and he hadn't looked any better than that first minute after finding out about Finn. He'd worn makeup to try to hide the dark bags under his eyes or the redness that tinged his nose after too many tissues, but his mood was obvious to anyone (not even just those who knew him). He'd lost his brother, but he was also the last son remaining in the Hummel-Hudson household. Burt couldn't very well stop being a congressman, so it was only natural that Kurt take the summer to be with Carol; Rachel couldn't even imagine losing a child, let alone losing one after already being forced to deal with the death of her first husband, too.

Life really just wasn't fair sometimes.

"Well, you're wrong," she practically growled, her mood quickly turning back to defiant. "And I don't need your help. Noah is driving Santana and I back."

As if on cue, a horn could be heard inside the Berry household, the loud beeping sound causing both Hiram and LeRoy to frown even deeper. "We just want you to be safe!"

"You are all quite emotional …"

"And with good reason," Hiram interjected in the middle of LeRoy's statement.

"And thinking irrationally and …"

"Thinking about my future is not irrational," Rachel interrupted, her eyes set on her fathers after she'd opened the door to make sure Noah and Santana didn't just drive off without her. "Perhaps if Finn had taken the time to consider his own, he'd still be alive."

The words tasted bitter, but sounded like pure poetry. This whole week she'd been so upset, hating herself for not being around when Finn died. She was so mad that something like this could happen, not just in her life but to someone she cared for so deeply. But then her anger started to shift. Realistically she knew she couldn't blame herself, so instead she focused on the neanderthals at his school who'd he'd been with that night. She loathed them for their influence on her friend and how irresponsible they'd been. She'd been so close to asking her fathers for their legal opinion on the matter when it dawned on her that Finn had been his own person. He'd made the choices that led to his death, and not she or anyone else but himself was to blame.

And, honestly, how dare he? How could he do something so stupid and so destructive? He was just starting on a path that was the most positive one he'd had ever, and then to just toss it all away for what she imagined to be nothing more than morbid curiosity; to experience whatever it was he must have imagined his father had - before he, too, had died, she'd silently point out right before getting too upset to think about it anymore. The fact that she could come up with a reason at all only made her more upset, which is why she hadn't felt a single pang of regret after she'd said what she did. If Finn could have been so selfish as to think of no one but himself and to carry out actions that catered only to himself, then she could, too. Why should she be expected to mourn his death when he hadn't cared enough about her to celebrate life?

"I'll call you when we arrive," she placated blankly before walking away from the front of her house without so much as a look back, let alone a hug or a kiss goodbye. She smiled at Noah when he helped secure her bag in the bed of the truck, then squeezed into the middle of the cab between him and Santana.

"You're ridin' bitch 'cause you couldn't score us any first class seats back."

Rachel rolled her eyes, settling her feet on Santana's side to avoid straddling the gear shift. "They came at a much higher cost this time around."

"I bet," Noah scoffed. "Somethin' like a 3-month stay at casa de Berry."

"That," her tongue clicked on the roof of her mouth, "with intensive therapy included."

Santana shook her head a little as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Ain't that twisted? Finn ends all his problems and now we're expected to fix all ours?"

"Guess he wasn't as dumb as we all thought."

Rachel snorted out a laugh that managed to prove her alliance to both of them and their opinions. Maybe it was just the second stage of grief and it wasn't the most healthy, but there was something quite liberating about it. Sitting between Noah and Santana, sharing all the memories of Finn none of them dared to mention while in the choir room a week ago - like how much of a dick he'd been that whole week of the kissing booth or how awkward he was post-sex - she felt like herself again. She wasn't the show choir diva in love with the star quarterback or even the NYADA princess on the path to Broadway and a Finchel endgame.

She was just Rachel.

It would have been such a comforting thought if it hadn't been an infuriating reminder that she was alone - that she'd never be "Rachel and Finn" again.


	4. Stage 3: Depression

**Author's Note: **If the last stage was hard, then this one was the worst. But you can read and figure that out. I, honestly, just want to take this time to state how much I'm in awe of Lea Michele. I was surprised to hear she was even going to the TCA and then saw her speech on a YouTube clip today and just ... she's such an amazing role model and person. Class act, and officially in my top-5 of girl crushes for being such a beautiful, strong woman.

* * *

_Stage 3: Depression_

Her steps back to the apartment were slow, not in the meandering way they used to be but just aimless. She honestly didn't know how long she'd been out, but the sun was about to set and she'd left the loft right before breakfast - did it count as breakfast if she hadn't eaten, hadn't eaten very much for a while? Rachel wasn't even sure why she'd left so early. More than likely just to get out of the apartment, where Santana was saying goodbye to yet another nightly visitor they all knew they'd never see again (the guy included). It was the only plausible excuse, anyway, considering she'd stopped going to all her extra-curricular dance classes and voice lessons.

School was starting soon and she was meant to begin gathering her books and materials, but she'd still yet to do that. She'd yet to do much of anything for a couple of months now, which was as depressing as she felt. In the back of her mind, Rachel knew she couldn't survive in this state. Everything she'd been working for and _everything_ she dreamed about could be lost, but there was always something holding her back. An old note she'd found when cleaning out an unmarked box. A song playing from someone's iPod in the subway. A tall passerby who turned out to be a stranger.

Or, like earlier, when someone would come up to her and give their condolences. Those had waned considerably since leaving Ohio, but in the middle of her walk to nowhere this morning she ran into Brody. Even now she'd forgotten how he'd heard, instead focused on the memory he recounted for her. His future wife? They'd been broken up and barely on speaking terms at that point, and yet … her heart had fluttered pathetically before when she'd only considered his knight-in-shining-armor rescue. Knowing his intentions made it much, _much_ worse.

Solemnly, Rachel walked into the apartment, not surprised that it was unlocked. They'd all stopped caring, stopped trying. It was eerily quiet inside, which meant Santana was out hooking up with another random stranger to avoid her feelings. Noah, however, was sitting in the middle of the couch, barely visible as there were no lights on and the sun had fallen far past the height of the windows. Still, she could see the bottle of liquor move from resting against his leg to his mouth; it was still mostly full, and she'd realized a few weeks ago that he seemed to be pacing himself. Drinking himself into oblivion was probably what Noah wanted to do to deal with his depression, but it was as if he was aware of the irony.

Without invitation, she moved across the living room and took the empty spot directly to his left. He still hadn't said anything to her (or even really acknowledged her), and for whatever reason she liked that. She was so sick of everyone trying to get her to open up, saying she'd feel better if she talked about it. She still refused to see a psychiatrist despite her fathers' countless attempts, as if she'd share any of her thoughts or feelings with a complete stranger when she wouldn't even do it to those closest to her. She wasn't even sure she had anything to share.

She accepted the bottle he'd extended toward her wordlessly, tipping it back and taking a tentative sip. It felt warm but rough running down her throat, like melted pieces of glass. Once it reached her chest, though, there was this feeling of peace that settled and she found herself taking another longer sip before passing the bottle back to Noah. His pull was much less hesitant, deep and audible as he swallowed heavily and then sighed in the same manner.

"I miss him," he confessed gravely, offering her the bottle again.

She used both hands to take it, wincing a little as she tried to drink more than before. "Me, too."

"He was my best friend." His voice was so hollow, so desperate. He sounded exactly how she felt. "I was shit to him, but he was still my best friend."

Rachel swallowed another mouthful before passing the bottle back to Noah, thinking about his regrets and her own. There was so much that felt unfinished, so much that she'd put off because she thought there would be time. She refused to be one of those people who used someone's death as a reason to _live every minute to the fullest_, but she couldn't help but hate that she hadn't done so from the beginning.

"I never got to tell him that I loved him."

It wasn't until she felt his arms wrap around her did she realize she was crying. She'd slumped against his chest, her face buried into the fabric of his T-shirt as the tears streamed down her face. She could feel the bottle in his one hand pressed against her back, but the other was stroking her arm in an erratic rhythm that wasn't at all soothing. And that's when she felt a tear hit her cheek that wasn't her own.

If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own depressing thoughts, she might have tried to pull herself together to console him. Instead, she kept herself nestled next to him, circling her arms around his waist and allowing each of them to mourn their friend without spectacle. Without judgement. Some might have considered it therapeutic, and maybe it was. After all, it was the first time in months when Rachel hadn't thought about Finn's death.

All she could think about was how close they were and yet how she felt more alone than ever.


	5. Stage 4: Bargaining

**Author's Note: **Legit, I thought I already posted this. My bad. Maybe my subconscious was trying to trick me because it knows this chapter is the most confusing (in my opinion) of all the stages. Regardless, here you go and thanks in advance for reading/reviewing.

* * *

_Stage 4: Bargaining_

Rachel sat in the middle of the couch, her feet curled underneath her while her eyes were glued to the television. She'd turned on the New Year's Eve coverage out of tradition more than interest, her attention anywhere but focused on the screen. She'd zoned out from the very beginning, lost in the bewilderment that it was already the end of the year and wondering if her fathers were home in the same position as her. She wasn't regretting her decision to stay in New York; she wasn't avoiding anything, but rather just really needed the break.

After floundering at the beginning of the semester, she'd had to work even harder than ever in order to make the grade. Being that busy had actually been good for her, allowing her to dedicate all her time and focus to her craft, which left no more time to be depressed. That's not to say she was done being sad. It just wasn't as debilitating as it was before. Perhaps time really did heal all wounds, though she'd guess her random conversations with Noah had helped push her (and him) to the fourth stage more than either of them would admit.

"Fuck," he exclaimed the second he'd entered the apartment, the sound of him stomping off the snow from his boots jolting her away from the TV screen more than his obscenity. "I think my balls are frozen to my leg."

Rachel smiled at him, but not because of his colorful description of the weather. Instead, her eyes scanned over his frame and noticed the pile of books he had under one arm. His cheeks and nose were rosy and there was snow covering the top of his head. He looked so much like Finn right then that her heart constricted, her smile fading into a frown. She'd grown used to feeling like she was taking one step forward in the healing process before just as quickly taking two steps back.

Noah walked right by her, oblivious (or apathetic) about the obvious change in her mood. She watched him settle in at the dining room table, splaying the books out in front of him and opening up one of his notebooks. He'd started taking classes in September at a nearby community college, working toward the same degree in music education as Finn had started. She knew why he was doing it, though neither of them had talked about it. She'd broached the subject once in a random conversation about Santana, who was seriously considering moving to LA to become an actor; Finn had given up that idea, but it still felt like the Latina was vying for any excuse to see it through - the weather was one of her common complaints not to mention the fact that Kurt would be coming back in the next week. Things were crowded enough with the three of them and both women knew neither would make Noah leave.

"Noah, we're on winter break," Rachel said carefully, wanting to be sensitive to his goal. She thought his task was admirable, but it was obvious he wasn't doing it for himself. He was trying to honor Finn, determined to fly through the coursework (which he'd done the semester before) at any cost. "Come watch terrible TV with me."

He just scoffed and continued working, his pen moving furiously across the paper as he transferred what appeared to be every word from one book into his own notebook. "I need to do this."

"Do what?" She asked, hoping he'd understand she was speaking more broadly than just what was right in front of him.

"_This_," he hissed, gesturing to all the work in front of him.

Rachel turned around entirely, her arms resting on the back of the couch as her knees sunk into the cushions. "Noah," she began, concern in her voice and likely evident in her expression, "you don't owe anyone …"

"It should have been me." Her mouth snapped shut, his confession all but echoing in the otherwise empty apartment. "_I _was the fuck up," he continued, adding, "No one would miss me."

"I would," she answered immediately, though she paid more attention to the way he brushed it off than to the fact that she'd said it in the first place. "But I can understand the urge to want to turn back time, to change things." She shrugged helplessly, sitting back on her heels while her hands played absently with the decorative seam on the couch pillow. "Personally, I keep playing the _what if_ game."

"What if I'd stayed in the dorm even after the campus told me to leave?"

She nodded at his response, adding one of her own, "What if I'd never come to New York?" She sighed heavily. "What if I'd fought harder when he'd come back from the Army? What if we'd patched things up at the wedding? What if …" She trailed off, feeling herself regress a little. "If just one thing were done differently, he could be here right now."

"We could be taking classes together," he imagined, the heaviness in his voice nearly gone.

"You'd start a silly college band that turns out to be a massive hit."

"Totally pissin' you off, saying we're more famous than you since we're rock stars and you're just on Broadway."

She rolled her eyes. "I'd go up to accept my Tony away and simply state, 'I win,' toward you two in the crowd in my speech."

They both laughed out loud for the first time in forever, at least for the first time that wasn't immediately followed by guilt. It felt good, and neither of them could wipe the smiles off their faces as they thought about the possibilities. Life seemed nearly perfect in that alternate universe.

"Sounds good," Noah finally stated, his slight cheerfulness fading. "I'd give anything for it to be true."

Rachel gave a small, sardonic chuckle. She knew it wasn't possible, after all. And she knew they all needed to move on, to get better and just be healthy. But, as the ball dropped to signify the new year - a time that used to be so positive to her and so inspiring. A clean slate, a fresh beginning where anything could happen - all she knew was that _what if_ never would.


	6. Stage 5

**Author's Note: **I had trouble writing this one, and I'm pretty sure it is just because it doesn't feel like enough time has passed to be at the final stage. However, the story is obviously on an expedited timeline, so I hope no one finds it too sudden or unrealistic _or_ painful to read.

Since this is the end, I'd like to take a second to thank everyone who read and reviewed. I completely understand how hard it is to read this story (just as hard as it was to write), and I really appreciate those of your who took the time to not just read it but made sure to let me know what they thought about each chapter (especially those who made sure to remind me I wasn't a terrible person (let alone terrible writer)). Thanks. :)

* * *

_Stage 5: Acceptance _

They were greeted with open arms, circling around the group for a hug (or fist bump, as the case may be) from each person waiting in the choir room. It was June and everyone had returned to the choir room; they'd decided to do it at the memorial service last year, but they actually lived up to their word. It was almost symbolic, given that it was Finn who'd been the one to bring them all together in high school. Without him then, there would have been no way their group would have interacted outside of their typical cliques. Santana wouldn't be hugging Rachel so hard because she missed her (even though they spoke more frequently now that she'd moved to LA than they had when they lived together in New York). Puck wouldn't be joking with Artie about some video game release that he was allegedly going to annihilate him on when they played together online. It was because of Finn now that they were able to come together, not to honor him, necessarily, but to honor their friendships.

Even as the conversations turned from greetings to memories, the air in the room stayed light and happy. Things weren't as somber as they'd been a year ago, the room often erupting in laughter or even song as everyone took turns recalling certain moments from their past together. They hadn't forgotten and they never would, but there was love in their hearts now instead of emptiness and sadness. It was refreshing to go back in time without the fear they'd be too depressed to claw their ways out.

"Ya really only stayin' the weekend?" Jake asked as everyone was talking about their plans for the the rests of their visits, trying to organize a dinner or at least another time they could all visit together one more time.

"'Fraid so, little bro." Noah shrugged. "Classes start next week."

"I'd never thought I'd see the day Noah Puckerman would _willingly_ take summer classes," Quinn teased.

Everyone laughed at Noah's expense, Rachel included even though she tried to defend his decision. "He worked so diligently all year, too. It's a shame some of it was for nought."

"Yeah," Noah agreed from the other side of the room, a guitar around his neck while his hands idly played a few notes. "I kinda forgot how much I always thought it would suck to have your life, Mr. Schue."

"Happy to help," the director joked in kind, shaking his head a little. "What are you planning to do now that you're getting out of education?"

"I'mma use the music courses for a degree in production." He shrugged as if it weren't as big of a deal as it was. "I wanna produce music."

"That's fantastic," everyone agreed in chorus.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll end up workin' on Berry's solo album once she ditches the Broadway dream."

Rachel rolled her eyes, saying, "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if I was still putting up with you when that time comes."

The room filled with amusement yet again before conversation segued into Mr. Schuester's plan for next year's glee club. It would be Jake, Marley and the rest of the class's senior year, and they were looking to defend the national championship that they'd won just a few weeks ago - they'd dedicated the win to Finn, even having his name engraved into the trophy afterward. And although Rachel loved talking about music and missed the strategy that came along with the competitions, it felt like the best time to sneak away. She already had plans to see everyone at least once more before leaving tomorrow, so she made a quick exit before starting her trek toward the opposite side of town.

Her steps slowed as she pushed opened the rusty metal gate, walking along the gravel trail that haphazardly led to his grave. She hadn't been back since right after the funeral, though that wasn't entirely the reason she took her time. She wasn't necessarily stalling, but rather just building up the courage to face the grim site. She knew the others were planning on stopping by at one point or another during their stay and she'd been purposefully vague about joining them for whatever reason. Now, though, Rachel wasn't sure she could it alone.

"Hey."

She didn't have to turn around to know who was behind her, but she did anyway. He looked hesitant and not nearly as cool as he'd been in the choir room earlier. She wasn't sure if he came here for himself or because he knew that's why she'd left, but she was grateful regardless. "Hi."

"I can go if you want," he scratched out, rocking back on his heel.

"No, stay." Her voice was so soft she could barely hear it herself. "I just thought I should say goodbye."

"Me, too." He nodded, stepping in sync with her through the grass until they reached the pristine marble grave with their friend's name on it. The dates etched into the hard stone still felt wrong, but the words his mother and Kurt had chosen couldn't have been more true. He would always be in their hearts, drumming the beat that they'd forever dance to.

"This is weird," he suddenly said after they'd been quiet for so long.

Rachel snorted a laugh, mostly agreeing. It was weird. It was weird to be standing in front of a gravestone for a boy she'd once loved so deeply. Weird to know that love would always be there, guiding her through a future he'd never see. And it was weird to be standing there with a boy who had been part of that past, part of her present and felt like he'd be there for the future.

"It's time to move on," she stated blankly, feeling like her words made no sense out loud. He couldn't hear the conversation she was having with herself, the one that was debating whether _goodbye_ was really the right word. "He would have wanted that."

Noah slid his hand into hers, nodding his head a little in agreement. She drew strength from the gesture, which was something she'd grown accustomed to over the past year. He'd always been in the shadows of her life, helping her in his own special way. This time, though, he was right there in the forefront, going through each stage right along with her. And, without it, Rachel didn't know if she would have survived.

"Yeah, he wouldda." He nodded his head. "It sucks he died, but we still have our whole lives."

Her heart beat rapidly, differently than it used to in the past. Even quicker than it had started to lately. "What should we do with it?"

He tilted his head to the side at the same time she did, the two looking at one another fully instead of through their periphery. Her stomach flipped at his emerging sly smirk, churning again when he lifted their still joined hands up so he could maneuver his arm over her head to rest across her shoulders. He pulled her closer against him as they walked out of the cemetery, his patent swagger causing her to giggle even before he said, "Oh, I've got some ideas."


End file.
